


apology

by limerental



Series: Witcher Ficletvember 2020 [9]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Apologies, Background Geralt/Yen - Freeform, F/M, Past Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:20:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27528322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limerental/pseuds/limerental
Summary: It isn’t long. Yennefer never stays the night, spiriting off to wherever she roosts. Jaskier has a fleeting hope that he can sit here at the fire sipping on his tea as she strides through the mostly empty front room of the inn. But instead of slipping out through the door and away, she sits down beside him. The firelight flickers across her dark hair and blank eyes.Ficletvember Day 10 - prompt: apology
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Witcher Ficletvember 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012020
Kudos: 21





	apology

Returning to the inn from an impromptu tumble in a nearby hay loft with a truly lovely woman by the name of Florence with an equally lovely… personality, Jaskier’s lazy whistling is interrupted when the innkeeper grabs at his arm before he can sling himself up the stairs.

“Would wait down here a while if I were you, Master Bard,” says the innkeeper, poking his tongue through the gaps of his missing teeth. “Your Witcher’s got a woman up in your room.”

“A woman?” Jaskier asks. Geralt has rarely ever had a woman in his room. The man must have needs, certainly, but if he sates them anywhere it’s under a madam’s roof.

“A real sight, that one. Hair black as a crow and eyes like… well, weren’t pleasant to look at.”

“Right,” he says, deflating. “Bring me something warm to drink then, if you don’t mind. I’m sure this won’t be long.”

It isn’t long. Yennefer never stays the night, spiriting off to wherever she roosts. Jaskier has a fleeting hope that he can sit here at the fire sipping on his tea as she strides through the mostly empty front room of the inn. But instead of slipping out through the door and away, she sits down beside him. The firelight flickers across her dark hair and blank eyes.

It’s been over a month since Rinde, and he has hoped never to see her again. That she would leave he and Geralt be. Feeble, fleeting hopes. There have been multiple chance encounters since that fatal day.

“Hello, bard,” says Yennefer.

“You owe him an apology,” he says, trying to keep a hardness to his voice.

"He’s already forgiven me,” says Yennefer. She does not have to ask him what he’s talking about. Jaskier knows what mages are like. If she wills it, she may read his every thought.

"Of course he has. He’s Geralt, but you still should– you owe me an apology.”

Yennefer snorts. “For what?”

“For– you know what! You nearly killed me. You threatened me. My er…” Jaskier gestured at his crotch.

“Your penis.”

“Yes my– you threatened to castrate me.”

“I wasn’t actually going to,” said Yen. “Too messy.”

“That doesn’t matter!”

“Also, I know you liked it,” she says, arching a thin brow.

Jaskier feels his face heat. "That’s neither… here nor there.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What just… as simple as that? That’s it?”

“Well what else do you want me to say?” Yennefer leans toward him, tipping her upper body until her face hovers not far from his crotch. “I’m sorry for threatening you, Little Jaskier. Do you forgive me?” She rights herself to hide a smug smile into the mug of tea she has stolen from him in the meanwhile. “Hmm, it really is unfortunately little.”

“Yennefer!” Jaskier says, flushed. “Don’t be stupid. That doesn’t make me believe you’re genuinely sorry.”

“I’m not.”

“Oh you–”

“But still,” says Yennefer, holding up a hand to quiet him. “I can admit that I was in the wrong. It was a hare-brained idea in the first place, and there was no need to go to such lengths. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“No shit.”

It must be the warmth of the fire that deepens the blush of heat across his face. Nothing to do with the hand that she settles on his thigh.

“As long as you behave yourself, I’ll refrain from threatening your life and penis in the future.”

“And if I don’t behave myself?” he dares to ask, voice tightening to a squeak.

Yennefer’s painted lips pull into a smirk.


End file.
